South Park; a small town in California.
A thundery monsoon night, when the sky was as black as the devil's soul. Unlike any other day, the streets that night were vacant; completely deserted. The wind howled, blowing the tall, lush green trees back and forth. The vibration caused by the thunder and the lightning had set off the ear-piercing alarms of a few cars. It rained in abundance; like the world was coming to an end. It certainly wasn't safe to step out that night.
Yet, it was him, who had dared to grace the gloomy streets alone.
He took heavy steps on that bridge; splashing water around as his shoes immersed into the puddles of mud. He was soaked from head to toe. The drops of water trickling down his face, mixed with his warm tears, blurring his vision.
From a distance, all he could see, was a car in a terrible state. It looked like it had rammed into something, and was completely crushed on one side. As he neared the spot of the accident, he could hear the deafening sirens of the ambulances and police vans. The stench of fuel leaking from the car, made him feel dizzy.
His heart clenched, as he came close to the damaged car. There was a hustle all around him; but surprisingly enough, no one had bothered to stop him from crossing the yellow line, that marked 'Crime Scene' in bold letters.
He took a deep, shaky breath, before crouching down outside the door. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest. Almost as if he could have a heart attack any moment. For once, he thought he won't be able to do it. But then again, he had to; for he had no control over himself. Nor did he have any control over the situation.
Slowly, and cautiously, his hand, ice cold and shaky, made its way up to the door's handle. A hundred thoughts crossed his mind; but he silenced them all and clicked it open in an instant.
The moment he opened the door, his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. There laid a body; lifeless and cold, in the driver's seat. He didn't dare look at its face; for he knew who it was. His gaze was fixed on the lifeless, still-as-a-stone hand, which had drops of blood dripping from it.
A small cry escaped his mouth and he looked away, in an attempt to calm himself down. The pain that he felt, was worse than a thousand knives stabbing him. He shut his eyes close, letting his tears slip away. He knew, he had to be strong. But he doubted himself. He knew, this wasn't over... yet.
Thus, he opened his eyes.
But much to his surprise, he found himself in a completely different place. He was not on that bridge anymore. There were no sirens; neither was there any hustle of people or a car crashed anywhere near him. This place, where he was, looked very pleasant and soothing to him.
The walls were a shade of crimson; and he was standing behind a desk, from where he could see racks filled with various books lined up one after another. It didn't take much for him to realize, that he was either in a library or a book store. But how did he get there? He was baffled. He couldn't wrap his head around anything that was going on. He was aloof, and scared, and lost, as he looked outside a window.
He realized, it wasn't raining anymore. There was no trace of any thundering. In fact, the sky was pretty much clear. The rays of the sun peeped through the canopy of trees and hit the ground. He could even hear the birds chirping. It didn't even seem like it had rained the night before; and that amused him. It was a beautiful sunny day in town.
Although, it came to his notice, that the streets were still deserted. They were the same; vacant and gloomy. There were no people, or no cars outside. And he had no idea why it was so. He knew there had to be a reason. But he also knew, that he was not in control of what was happening.
Just as he was about to look away, he heard someone laughing. He became alert; and a little joyed, knowing that he wasn't alone after all.
He peeped outside the window again; this time, searching more intently for the source of the melodious laughter. It sounded like that of a girl's.. or maybe two. He was curious and impatient now, as he looked around.
He stopped, when his gaze fell on two figures standing across the street.
At first, he found it strange, since he had failed to notice them. Clearly, they weren't there before.
Both of them, the girls, had their backs facing him. One of them, was tall. She must've been around his height. She had bouncy curls with blonde highlights in them. She held a bouquet of white roses in her hands. The other one was comparatively short. From what he could make out, she was wearing a blue and white school uniform; and her hair was neatly tied in a braid. The girls were looking into a shop across the street, and laughing hysterically.
He wondered if he knew them. He tried to think of all the women he knew; but these two, were complete strangers to him. He had no clue why he was seeing them. Just them; until he heard a voice echoing in his ears.
"They're the ones," It said.
His heart skipped a beat, upon hearing it. The voice was rather very familiar to him. An inaudible gasp escaped his lips, as he searched for the one that voice belonged to. But the girls were the only one's in his sight.
"They're the ones," It said, again.
And before he could understand what it meant, it spoke again.
"They're the ones," Again, those same words were repeated. He could not comprehend anything. That voice, echoing in his ears, was nothing less than a torture to him.
He felt dizzy; like the whole world was spinning around. He could see those girls, who were now just blurred figures. And he could hear that voice, repeating the same words to him -- they're the ones -- again and again and again.
The more he wondered what it meant, the more tortured he felt. He knew, it was the voice, that troubled him. He wanted to silence it forever. But it was controlling him. And he had no option, but to obey. He felt vulnerable; like slave who had to obey his master.
With his vision blacking out, he fell to his knees and covered his ears tightly, in an attempt to drain the voice. But it didn't help.
His breathing hitched, making him more restless.
"Stop!" He yelled, from the bottom of his lungs. But it only exhausted him more. He failed in silencing the voice.
"Stop it, please!" He cried with whatever energy that was left in him. But alas... nothing seemed to work. To him, this torture was even worse than dying.
His vision had started to black out. He took heavy breaths, gasping for air. He wasn't able to hold himself up anymore. And at last, he closed his eyes shut, before dropping to the floor.
He could feel a pit in his stomach, making him feel like he was being thrown down from the top of a skyscraper. He panicked at the thought and with a jolt, he shot his eyes open.
When he gained consciousness, he was panting and sweating; almost as if he had run a marathon. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened.
He only stared up at the roof, at the fan rotating at a very slow speed. That's when he realised, he was lying on his bed, in his room. The clock on the wall showed an odd timing of 3.07 am.
He understood.
It was a dream.
